Bitter cold, with dark winters long,
Such is my homeland,
A place for storytelling and song,
Well suited.
Of Serpent, troll, and dragon,
I’ll speak if you fill my flagon,
With mead song-imbued.
Of heroes I can tell,
Many a story unknown,
And some you know well.
Our land is one by factions torn,
The creatures in the mist,
Care little for crowns by men worn.
Disir, huldre, and giant,
Embody the defiant,
Hearts beating to the drums of war.
In those of the Old Blood,
The secret of magic still does flow,
Unstoppable flood that endlessly grow.
Such is the land I call my home,
And it is dangerous to go alone,
Through Forest, mountain, and fjord.